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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432965">Chocolates, Journals, and Taco Bell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianaintheSnow/pseuds/AdrianaintheSnow'>AdrianaintheSnow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Cuffed Universe [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cop Remus, Drugs Mentioned, M/M, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:14:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianaintheSnow/pseuds/AdrianaintheSnow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus apologizes to Virgil for the Pizza Rat incident.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Cuffed Universe [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chocolates, Journals, and Taco Bell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Remus hesitated at the end of the walkway leading up to the familiar house. He clutched the bag in his hands a bit nervously. He knew this was the right move, but he also knew he could easily fuck up the execution and make Virgil angrier than he already was. With a breath, Remus put on a smile and walked up to the door.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He knocked on the door to Virgil’s rental home and then stood back to wait. The door opened after a couple of moments so Virgil could blink at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey Emo!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil sighed dejectedly. “You’re going to make me lose my new job before I even get there, aren’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Remus winced, but didn’t let his smile slip. Virgil was in a uniform which probably meant he was about to leave for a job. Remus probably shouldn’t have shown up at Virgil’s house right before he needed to work considering Remus’s rather… bad track record with Virgil’s jobs. Or Virgil’s lack of jobs, more like. To be fair, Remus hadn’t known he’d managed to get a new job after the Pizza Rat Fiasco. “No! No, it’s not like that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then was is it like?” Virgil asked. “I need to catch the bus, or I’ll be late.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just…” Remus said. “Here.” He shoved the bag he was carrying into Virgil’s arms. “It’s an apology.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” Virgil asked, taking the bag. He looked at it with blatant suspicion.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What? Do you think it’s a gun and I’m trying to get your fingerprints on it to frame you for murder?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil’s face screwed up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, come on! I was joking!” Remus exclaimed. “Obviously, I was joking. It’s just a present.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know you were joking,” Virgil said, “but being handed a random bag and having that idea put into my head doesn’t help with my anxiety, Officer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Remus frowned at him. For some reason, the use of Remus’s title made him feel uncomfortable. It probably had to do with how Virgil had implied he thought Remus would have him arrested if he snitched about Logan the last time they’d met. “I promise it’s not bad. Just open it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He finally gave in and looked inside the bag, his face screwing up even more. “I can’t accept this,” he said, holding the bag back out to Remus.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, you can,” Remus said, shoving it back towards him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Remus…” Virgil said. Remus glared at him. “I… I’ll take the chocolates, but not… not the rest.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil did not respond, just pushed them at him again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?” Remus repeated.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can’t just hand me a bag full of expensive shit and expect me to take it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?” Remus said one more time. “I’m good for it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil’s expression darkened. “Just fuck off!” He dropped the bag and slammed the door in Remus’s face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Remus bent down to grab the bag and then waited for a couple of seconds before he knocked again. “You have to open the door again to go to work,” he reminded through the door. “Unless you want to climb the back fence into the neighbor’s yard in your new uniform and get eaten by their dog.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He heard a muted curse from behind the door and almost smiled. The door opened again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s wrong with my presents?” Remus asked. “I thought they were good presents.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil glared at him. “How did you even know?” he asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“About what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shifted uncomfortably. “The notebook thing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You mentioned them once,” Remus said, reaching in and grabbing the offending item. It was a lightweight journal with a purple and black flexible hard cover. There were three different attached black strings that could be used as bookmarks. He didn’t really know much about journals, but they apparently had really good paper. “You said you really liked this type, and wanted one, but they were way too expensive for you to dump cash on them. You said they’d be good for writing poetry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil seemed unsure what he should say. “I said one not three, and you were drugged out of your mind. I was trying to keep you conscious. How the fuck do you remember that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My mind’s like a steel trap!” Remus claimed hitting his own head as though to demonstrate. “You can get nothing past me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil gave him a dubious look. “I still can’t accept it,” he said. “Those things are expensive, and I don’t know how much the matching pens are, but I can guess just by how they look.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?!” Remus once again asked. “I know you wanted one of them, so why won’t you just take it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t want your pity,” he said. “You can’t buy me, or whatever this,” he waved his hand at the bag, “is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not pity,” Remus said, scrunching his nose, “or any of that. It’s sorry, remember. That’s what I said. I got you fired, a couple of times, so I’m paying you back a bit for it. They’re just notebooks!” And… a couple of fast-food gift cards Remus had picked up on his way here, but he was going to hope he could slip those past his notice. “It’s probably not even expensive enough to cover your missing paychecks. It’s just me trying to apologize. In fact, it’s not nearly enough to repay you for the whole tying you up in a closet thing. Why don’t you let me drive you to work? I’ll even buy you something to eat on the way!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil stared at him, a war clear in his eyes, but then he seemed to fold. “Fine,” he agreed. “Buy me Taco Bell.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure,” Remus agreed. He handed the bag back to Virgil who took it and stuck it inside his house.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked at Remus, his eyes narrowed. “If a sex joke leaves your mouth at any point, I’m rejecting all of your gifts.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Repayments,” Remus reminded.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Repayments,” Virgil corrected with an eyeroll, but some more of the tension that had been in his shoulders the entire conversation was eased.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hmm,” Remus said. “You drive a hard bargain, but I guess we have a deal.” Virgil stared at him, eyebrow raised. Remus thought for a moment, then “It wasn’t a sex joke! It wasn’t! I swear!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil held up a finger. “Strike one.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ooo I get three strikes?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Strike two.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That was totally not a sex joke!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re not just for sex jokes,” he said.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fine, fine,” Remus said. “I’ll just keep my mouth sealed the whole time, how about that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Huh, yeah,” Virgil said. “That sounds perfect.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Remus couldn’t help but cackle, reaching over to pinch him on the shoulder.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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